


100 Suns

by Christina786



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Songfic, thirty seconds to mars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8082511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina786/pseuds/Christina786
Summary: Just sat on the metro listening to Thirty Seconds To Mars, when I got the idea for this short one-shot. Bucky Barnes doesn't believe in anything anymore. At least he believes his own mind.





	

_I believe in nothing_  
_Not the end and not the start_  
_I believe in nothing_  
_Not the earth and not the stars_

 

Buck. Bucky. James Buchanan Barnes. This could not be real, he was… who was he? He could not be that Barnes person. He could not be worth of the affection that had shown underneath the desperation in the eyes of the man in front of him. The man in front of him. Steven Grant Rogers. Captain America. He was his mission. Had been his mission, was his mission, was…what? It felt like grasping for branches just out of reach to pull himself out of quicksand. He had never been stuck in quicksand, but this would probably be what it would feel like. How did he know that he had never been stuck in quicksand? He knew. But he did not know how he knew. Just like he knew he had known that man. But how could that be? His head hurt. He let his heavy head rest on the old backpack he used as a pillow. He had found it in a backalley. In a dumpster. It had smelled a little, but then, so had he. He found a container holding clothes donated to the salvation army a few blocks further, and broken the lock, went through the clothes it contained and had soon enough found a hoodie to hide his arm. No good to draw attention to himself. His utility pants were practical enough and did not attract too much attention, but he might just be in need of another coat. He was lucky and found a parker, just slighty on the larger side. It was dark green. Just like the clothes he had worn in the army. Had he ever been to the army? He could feel his head starting to race again. Sighing he turned around and looked up at the sky. The stars. How did he know they were real? He didn’t, but all he could do was believe that they were. Otherwise, what was? This earth? This life? Another sigh. Geez, if he could only sleep. He thought of Steve. The smaller boy beside him in his bed. The moment he decided, he’d always be there for Steve, when he sobbed into his chest, because… he could not remember why. And was this the same Steve? He did not look the same. Except he did. Sometimes. He and Steve had been friends for as long as Bucky could think. The boy Bucky could think, because he himself could not remember a time without Steve, but then again, he couldn’t remember much of anything. And then one night Steve had climbed in through the window long past their bedtime and Bucky had seen that he needed help. Steve had been…beaten up? Spit at? Something like that. Somebody had called him names. He had tried to defend someone. He had tried to keep someone from trying to do something that wasn’t right. He had done something Bucky was always proud of. He had failed and he was furious and frustrated with his own size. And all Bucky was able to do was hold him and tell him that one day he’d be able to do something against the bullies. One day, they’d be fighting bullies together. On his backpack pillow he squeezed his eyes shut. How did he know that? Who was that boy? He could not get any of the pieces to match. A cold night in a tent, another Steve furiously clenching his teeth because of something. A train. He shuddered. He did not want to think of that train. Trains made him feel uncomfortable. He couldn’t pinpoint why. The freightship sighed in the night. He sighed as well. Whatever this was, this was not real. The train was not real. That Steve was not real. He thought about the man at the side of the lake. He looked a little like the other Steve. The one in the tent. Only smaller. He punched his backpack into a more comfortable shape, nudging his note book deeper into the clothes, so its edges would not press into his cheek. He had been at the Smithsonian. And there was no denying that he looked like that Bucky Barnes person. But there was no way he was him. He was only… how old was he? Not in his 90s that much was clear. There was no way in hell that the memories in his head were real or that he could be James Buchanan Barnes. 

_I believe in nothing_  
_Not the day and not the dark_  
_I believe in nothing_  
_But the beating of our hearts_  


He could see Steve’s breath rising into the starry night. The smaller boy stood before him, his cheeks all red and his breathing heavy. Bucky looked down into his face. “Steve, calm down, it’s over.” Steve looked up, chin stubbornly pushed forward. “Still, Buck, they should not have done this in the first place!” Bucky sighed. “Of course not, but you can’t risk a bloody nose everytime someone is calling someone a…you know.” Steve looked into his eyes, defeat already showing, but still he answered: “But I can try.” Bucky had to laugh despite the grave situation. He let his head fall back and looked up at the sky. The stars above Brooklyn shone so bright in those last few days of autumn. He felt happy. Very happy actually. He had this warm feeling in his chest that had been settling there for a few weeks, but only now did he really acknowledge it. He felt Steve stepping a little closer. Turning around.  
“What are you looking at, Buck?”  
When he looked down to Steve, the blonde had a smile on his face and got slightly redder.  
“Nothing much. The stars. Why?”  
“You look happy, is all. Thought you’d seen something.”  
He still looked at Steve and his first thought was “Maybe I have.” Bucky felt himself blush hard at the thought. Steve got a little closer, Bucky felt his small frame shiver at his side and lay an arm around him, tucking him into his side.  
“We should get home, it’s getting colder at night and you’re still not wearing appropriate clothes.” Bucky looked at Steve’s newspaper stuffed shoes that still did the job, but wouldn’t do much good in the winter. Steve’s sweater looked a little threadbare as well. Bucky once again hoped for a mild winter.  
“Well, I got you. You’re like my human stove.” Steve grinned.  
“Bodyguard, stove, partner in crime… anything I’ve missed?”  
Steve sighed and Bucky could have sworn he saw the heat return to Steve’s cheeks. “No, that about covers it. Best friend might be missing, though.”  
Bucky and Steve looked at each other and with a jolt in his stomach he sat upright and looked at the stars above the freight ship. They weren’t the same stars as the ones above Brooklyn, but he did not know how he knew. Had that been a dream or a memory? Was it real? The rapid beating of his heart told him, it was. It had been a memory. A feeling. He felt the need to claw at something because this was so frustrating. Getting bits and pieces back, not knowing where they fit in. Not knowing what to make of them. He took out the notebook titled ‘Brooklyn’ and started writing.

_I believe in nothing_  
_One hundred suns until we part_  
_I believe in nothing_  
_Not in sin and not in God_

He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with his arrival in the city at the Black Sea. He couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling originated, but he knew the rules of the game by now. He’d get a feeling first, a feeling that didn’t relate to his current situation at all, and then at some point the memory would just come out of nowhere and a sinking feeling. Or a rapid heartbeat. Or the need to laugh. Unfortunately, the one’s that came accompanied by laughter were still too rare. He got off the ship unnoticed and made his way across the harbour, trying to find out where he had stranded. He acted like he belonged and sooner rather than later a guy started talking to him. Romanian. He had been trained in Romanian for a mission. He asked for directions. The train station. How to get there. He needed to get there, because he had to get some cargo from the station. He was lucky and got a ride with a guy named Radu. Radu was a nice enough fellow, babbling all the way in a Romanian dialect that Bucky tried to adapt as fast as possible. He was on the look out for further signs where exactly he was. Constanţa. No one would be looking for him in Romania, so it was probably as good a place as any to go into hiding. Still, he needed to cover his traces in case someone had been noticing something off about him on the freighter. It had been weeks, so if any of his colleagues had found out something about a missing Soviet assassin and had drawn the connection to him, he’d be done in, which was the reason for his stealthy getaway as well. It was unlikely that Hydra or SHIELD or any intelligence agency would be scanning freight ships, but he could not be careful enough. As soon as he got to the station, he swiped the wallet of an elderly looking business man and felt incomprehensively guilty about it. He had to get his hands on some local money, though, and quick. He bought a train ticket for the next train that would bring him to Bucharest. He was still straining to hear and see anything suspicious, but everything was normal, the people around him calmly getting onto the train and into their seats. He settled down and closed his eyes when the train jerked into motion, leaving him with the uncomfortable feeling he always got whenever he thought of or saw a train. The sinking feeling in his stomach stayed, even as his nerves settled. His eyes closed after a while, and he fell asleep.  
He had only a couple of weeks left in Brooklyn and he did not know how to tell Steve. He’d need to ship out too soon. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to say goodbye to Steve without knowing if they’d ever see each other again. He felt like he had to be sick. Which was exactly the moment Steve chose to turn up at his family’s apartment. Ever since his mother had died, Steve had been spending most of his time with Bucky and his family, unable to bear the silence Sarah’s death had left him for a room mate. Bucky looked up from the letter he was holding and wanted to hide it, but as soon as Steve saw the official looking paper, he knew. His face fell. Bucky felt the need to hug Steve close to his chest and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Mostly because he needed to hear that everything was going to be okay. Without even noticing, he had taken a few steps toward Steve, who looked at him quizzically.  
“Buck? What are you doing?”  
Bucky had to laugh, as the whole situation was surreal. Was there anything that could make it even more so? He took a hold of Steve’s shoulders and looked into the face that was so familiar he could close his eyes and still see every single freckle in it. Steve blushed.  
“I…I have to ship out soon.”  
“I guessed as much, with the letter and all.”  
“I wish I would not have to go.”  
“I wish I could go with you.”  
“Don’t, Steve. Don’t try and be a hero. Please. I need to know you are save.”  
“I just want to…”  
For the first time in their friendship, Bucky lost his nerves with Steve. “I am asking you, for my sake, stay at home, please. Don’t try to get the army to take you. This is not the time to be a hero. This is war, Steve, this is not a playground fight. If you go there, chances are, you get killed.”  
Steve looked at him. Mouth open. Then, with a small voice, he said “But the same goes for you. I don’t want to let you go off on your own, Bucky. And isn’t war exactly the time to be a hero?”  
“Not if that means that you are going to die, Steve. I have no choice, but you do. Steve, I need you to…”  
“But what’s with ‘where you go, I go’, with ‘with you till the end of the line’? Bucky, I can’t leave you hanging.”  
Bucky shook his head. “Steve, I… I…” He looked down into Steve’s eyes, full of determination and he knew that Steve would not be convinced otherwise. And he did not want to argue with Steve now. They did not have enough time left to argue. Especially when he doubted that Steve would ever be admitted to the army.  
Steve’s eyes were so full of passion and wasn’t that the reason why Bucky loved him? Because he did. He took a step closer.  
“Before I leave, there’s something I need to tell you, though.” Bucky mumbled. Steve jerked to attention as soon as Bucky had spoken those words.  
“I… I don’t know what it makes me, but I don’t believe it makes me a bad person. I love you and I am glad to know you.”  
Steve’s mouth hung open. He looked at Bucky, eyes opened wide. Then Bucky saw a glint in the corner of Steve’s left eye. Steve smiled sadly.  
“I love you, too. And I’m sure, I am a better person for knowing you.”  
“You’d be a lot more beaten up, if you didn’t know me.” Bucky laughed half-heartedly. He did not know if knowing that Steve loved him too would make going away easier or harder for him. The sinking feeling in his stomach got even worse than before.  
The train jerked to a halt and he upwards in one fluid motion. They had already arrived in Bucharest. He was more confused than ever. Who was Steve to him and what should he do about it. What could he do about it? He felt lost. The sinking feeling in his stomach felt more real than it ever had. 

 

_I believe in nothing_  
_Not in peace and not in war_  
_I believe in nothing_  
_But the truth and who we are_  


There were a lot of note books now. In the beginning there were three. Brooklyn. The War. The Things He Wanted To Forget, But Had To Remember.  
These days there were notebooks for people. Places. Several for Steve. He knew that he was James Buchanan Barnes. But he did not believe it quite yet. He did not trust anything yet. He always had an emergency getaway plan. He was constantly looking over his shoulder. For almost two years he’d been living in Bucharest now, he had an apartment, he took smaller jobs, whenever he could, never stayed at one place long enough to make friends or acquaintances. He started to think that this was how he would be living his life. He still felt an uncomfortable strain in his chest whenever he thought about Steve, but he did not want any part of his world. He had been following the news, had been starting to research Captain America and the Avengers. He had been there, done that. He liked his quiet little life in Bucharest. His life, in which he decided what he did or did not want to do. He did not want anything to do with the wars fought for power, with the carefully crafted illusion of peace. He did not need any more violence in his life. Because violence was what all this came down to in the end. Somebody was always losing, every fight for peace would be fought on the backs of other peoples’ lives. He looked around his apartment and smiled. He had built this from nothing out of the ruins of a life. It was not much, but it started to feel like home. He got a cup of coffee from the old, moldy kitchen counter, but he had paid for that coffee. It was his coffee. The brand he liked. The way he found it tasted best. From the french press. He had bought a coffee maker once, but found that he didn’t like his coffee like that. And chocolate, he loved chocolate. Life could be so easy when you focussed on the little things. The smell of fruit, the taste of food. How good it felt to drink when he was thirsty. To sleep as long as he wanted to. He drank his coffee and decided to go out and buy some groceries. Plums were in season. He loved plums. Last year he had been living on plums for weeks.  
And then his new life caved in under the weight of his old one. This was not who he was. As much as he wanted to be Adrian from Constanţa, he was James Buchanan Barnes. One look into the determined blue eyes, focussing on his intently, was enough. “I read about you in a museum.” It didn’t cut it. He knew it. Steve knew it. Once again, he and Steve had to stand side by side to get through whatever was standing between the two of them and peace. Be it bullies, letters, a continent filled with nazis, or decades. This was where he belonged. Right here, beside Steve was where he was himself. But there was still another foe to fight: his own head. He smiled at Steve encouragingly, but Steve looked like he was dying. Bucky took his hand.  
“It’s for the best.”  
“I know, but I just got you back.”  
“I just got myself back. But I want to be sure to stay myself.”  
Steve gave a nod. “Just… just promise me, I won’t be alone for too long. I’m not myself without you.”  
“Neither am I. I don’t believe in anything anymore, but I do believe in you and me.”


End file.
